The other match of Serie A coaches

In the Italian football debate—long accustomed to controversy, where words spoken off the pitch often make more noise than actions on it—the communication style of Serie A managers has truly become both a political act and a strategic tool. It serves as a manifesto of each coach’s footballing philosophy and an integral part of their team-management approach.

Crafted statements, subtle (or not so subtle) allusions, and carefully directed pressure: these are the rhetorical weapons many coaches use, each with their own strategy, audience, and objectives, to try—and sometimes succeed, with mixed consequences—to influence events both on the pitch and inside the dressing room from the outside. They exploit the media’s obsessive attention to everything surrounding the match, in a mechanism that extends far beyond the 90 minutes of play.

Antonio Conte is the demagogue par excellence. His ability to shape events goes well beyond tactical variables: his staged altercation with Lautaro, perfectly orchestrated, to pull Inter out of the match, is just the latest off-field trick to serve his own purpose. In front of the microphones, his script never changes: emphasis on how others are better equipped, the need for time and hard work to integrate new players, and the constant highlighting of difficulties. For some, it’s unbearable rhetoric; for others, a masterful manipulation of the media to rally the team behind him and shield them from pressure—a strategy that has consistently paid off, at least domestically.

Standing apart from the rest is Cristian Chivu, who in these early weeks has proven an example of clear and responsible communication: always transparent, distant from controversy, and focused on the team’s collective responsibilities. He puts his players’ merit and the club’s interests above his own image. It’s an easy diplomatic line to maintain when you’re winning—but the Romanian coach stuck to it even after the defeat in Naples. A breath of fresh air in a football world increasingly self-centered and character-driven.

“I’m trying to change things, but for now I’m fighting alone. We’re too used to complaining; we need to evolve. As long as I’m here, I’ll keep doing this—I don’t care what others think of me.”
Indeed, a breath of fresh air in an increasingly egocentric football landscape.

His press conferences are must-see performances of verbal artistry: Max Allegri in front of the microphones is a true artist. He answers without answering, responds to questions with more questions, simplifies situations while mixing the cards, and uses colorful anecdotes to deflect attention—all with his trademark poker face. His strategy is clear: to build a barrier protecting his team, keeping a positive and calm atmosphere around the group, and deflecting pressure. He will never dramatize absences or market shortcomings; instead, he’ll call his players to unity, setting a hypothetical points target for Champions League qualification.

For Gasperini, it’s all stick and very little carrot — it’s always been that way. He often crosses the line with direct attacks on his own players. His communication style is rigid, at times harsh, part of a gruff yet effective persona that has earned the Roma coach his fair share of enemies. Back at Atalanta, he used to provoke his forwards with almost personal affronts delivered through the press — challenges to which Muriel, Zapata, Lookman, and Scamacca regularly responded with goals and performances. For now, though, his barbs aren’t having the same effect on the more fragile personalities of Dovbyk (who did well off the bench against Sassuolo) and Ferguson, both repeatedly prodded — to put it mildly — in recent weeks, in ways that, while not entirely unjustified, have bordered on inappropriate.

There are also examples of how poor communication can worsen already delicate situations. Igor Tudor’s confusion — now the former Juventus manager — reflected back and forth between the microphones and the pitch. From complaining about the fixture list as early as Matchday 4 to justifying Yildiz’s substitution against Milan as “a way to send a message to the team,” the list of questionable statements is long and ended up destabilizing an already fragile environment. His attempt to trace a series of structural problems — for which the club bears major responsibility — back to individual errors was the last resort of a man left on his own. Still defending himself and his positions, Tudor divided the blame for a third consecutive defeat and a fourth straight match without scoring with his players, while insisting to the end that he couldn’t care less about his future.